Confessions at Midnight

The second book in the Mayhem in Mayfair series, 2007

This book is dedicated with my deepest respect and gratitude to all those who have served and are currently serving in our Armed Forces. Thank you for the sacrifices you and your families make to keep our nation free and safe. I'd especially like to thank my dad, World War II veteran James Johnson, for not only serving in the Army but also for instilling in me a profound love of our country. And thanks also to my mom, Kay Johnson, not only for being a wonderful mother, but for marrying that handsome former soldier.

And, as always, to my fantastic husband, Joe, for being The Most Patient Man on Earth, and my terrific son, Christopher, aka Patience Junior. Jegamesh, boys. I love you!


Acknowledgments

I would like to thank the following people for their invaluable help and support:

My editor, Erika Tsang, and all the wonderful people at Avon Books/HarperCollins for their kindness, cheer-leading, and helping make my dreams come true, including Liate Stehlik, Carrie Feron, Debbie Stier, Pam Spengler-Jaffee, Buzzy Porter, Brian Grogan, Mike Spradlin, Adrienne Di Pietro, Mark Gustafson, Rhonda Rose, Carla Parker, and Tom Egner.

My agent, Damaris Rowland, for her faith and wisdom, as well as Steven Axelrod and Lori Antonson.

Jenni Grizzle and Wendy Etherington for being such great buds.

Thanks also to the wonderful Sue Grimshaw of BGI for her generosity and support and Kathy Baker, bookseller extraordinaire. If bookselling were an Olympic event, you two ladies would bring home the gold! And as always to Kay and Jim Johnson; Kathy and Dick Guse; Lea and Art D' Alessandro; and Michelle, Steve, and Lindsey Grossman.

A cyber hug to my Looney Loopies Connie Brockway, Marsha Canham, Virginia Henley, Jill Gregory, Sandy Hingston, Julia London, Kathleen Givens, Sherri Browning, and Julie Ortolon, and also to the Temptresses the Blaze Babes.

My terrific book club buddies Susie Aspinwall, Sandy Izaguirre, Melanie Long, and Melissa Winsor for their kindness, friendship, and support.

A very special thank you to the members of Georgia Romance Writers and Romance Writers of America.

And finally, thank you to all the wonderful readers who have taken the time to write to me. I love hearing from you!

Chapter One

His hand slipped beneath my gown to slowly glide up my leg. The muted sounds of the party came through the library door, and I knew we risked being discovered. But I simply did not care…

Memoirs of a Mistress by An Anonymous Lady


"When we chose this book to read, I had no idea it would be so… explicit," murmured Carolyn Turner, Viscountess Wingate.

She clutched her slim, leather-bound-and much perused-volume of Memoirs of a Mistress and glanced around her drawing room at her three guests, who, along with her, comprised the Ladies Literary Society of London. All three faces, she noted, bore scarlet blushes identical to the one scorching her own cheeks. Quite understandable, as one of her guests was only newly married and the other two were virginal innocents.

Virginal, yes. Innocents-no longer, thanks to the Memoirs.

Of course, in spite of having been married for seven years, she herself still had never dreamed of, let alone experienced, half the things described in the scandalous book that had recently taken Society by storm. Before her beloved Edward's untimely death three years ago, she'd believed they shared every conceivable pleasure with each other.

Based on her reading of the Memoirs, apparently not.

Her sister Sarah, the new Marchioness Langston by virtue of her recent marriage, cleared her throat. "Well, the entire point of forming our little Ladies Literary Society was to forsake the classics for more forbidden fare."

"True," said Lady Julianne Bradley, whose normally porcelain complexion now resembled a fiery sunset, "but there is forbidden, then there is this." She held up her own copy of the book and Carolyn noted that many of the pages appeared decidedly dog-eared. Julianne leaned forward, and although they were alone in the room, she lowered her voice. "If Mother ever discovered I'd read such shocking things, she'd…" Julianne briefly squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh, I cannot even imagine it."

"She'd fly into the boughs as she always does," chimed in Lady Emily Stapleford with her usual forthrightness. "She'd demand her hartshorn, then, once recovered, I wager she'd confiscate your copy in order to read it for herself." Emily grinned at Julianne over the rim of her teacup. "In which case you'd not only be confined to your bedchamber for the remainder of your natural days, but you'd never get your book back. So make certain she doesn't find out."

Julianne's color deepened, and she quickly added another sugar lump to her tea. "As I've absolutely nothing to which I can compare anything I've read in the Memoirs, I can't help but wonder if half the things the author describes are even…"

"Anatomically possible?" finished Emily. "Yes, I wondered the same thing." Her gaze bounced between Carolyn and Sarah. "Well?"

Sarah pushed up her spectacles then fanned herself with her napkin. "I'm hardly an expert, as I've only been married two months. But from what I can tell…"

Her voice trailed off, and Emily leaned forward so far she nearly tipped from her chair. "Yes?"

"Everything she describes is… possible."

Emily sat back and whooshed out a long breath. "Never say so." Her amazed gaze shifted to Carolyn. "Do you concur?"

Carolyn pressed her hands against her book, which rested in her lap. Snippets from the scorching story of the Anonymous Lady's sexual exploits sifted through her mind and she felt as if the pages set her gown on fire.

"Certainly possible," she agreed, even though she wasn't quite positive. But really, weren't most things possible?

"But are they… enjoyable?" asked Julianne, her blue eyes round. "Because I must say, some of them sound rather… messy."

An image flashed through Carolyn's mind… of Edward's handsome face hovering above hers, his flesh buried deep inside her. The indescribable joy of that intimacy.

"Definitely enjoyable," Carolyn and Sarah said in unison.

"Even what she describes on page forty-two?" Emily asked in a breathless voice, rifling through the pages of her book.

Carolyn didn't need to look at page forty-two to know what was described there-she'd read the highly sensual passage so many times she could recite it by rote. Still, she fell in with the group and opened her book. Her gaze fell upon the Anonymous Lady's vivid description of a quick tryst in which her lover took her against the library wall between courses at a dinner party.

"Possible," Carolyn murmured, picturing the carnal image of the lady's legs wrapped around her lover's hips while he thrust into her, hard and deep. Although Edward had never made love to her in such a rough and… ungentlemanly way, she supposed it was possible-provided the gentleman was quite strong and vigorous, the lady quite agile and filled with stamina, and they were both quite determined.

"And, urn, definitely enjoyable," added Sarah.

Three gazes immediately flew to Sarah. Surely her sister hadn't-

But one look at her sister's dreamy expression glowing behind her spectacles made it clear that Sarah knew of what she spoke, a fact that unsettled Carolyn in a way she didn't quite understand.

Emily cleared her throat. "I… see. Well, what about that bit on page fifty-three? Surely a man wouldn't do that… would he?"

"And the other on page sixty-one?" added Julianne. "Surely a woman wouldn't do that… would she?"

Again Carolyn knew precisely to what her friends referred without looking at the book. Her face flamed hotter and she found herself shifting in her seat from the same disconcerting sensations that had plagued her during her entire reading of the Memoirs.

Readings, her inner voice interjected, emphasizing the plural.

She shot her pesky inner voice an inward frown. Very well, readings. Many, many readings. Alone in her bed, her mind overflowing with carnal images that left her overheated.

Although she again had no personal knowledge of the shocking goings-on described on pages fifty-three and sixty-one, she had no reason to doubt the word of the Anonymous Lady who clearly knew her way around a boudoir. And a library. And the stables. And even the dining room.

For starters.

Carolyn shoved the sensual images aside and stated, "According to the rumors, everything in the book is completely true."

Sarah cleared her throat. "Yes. Men do do those things. Um, women, too."

Carolyn blinked. Surely Sarah hadn't done that. Yet another quick look at her sister made it quite clear she had. And that she was deliriously happy about it. An odd mixture of delight and envy suffused her. Delight-that Sarah, who for so long had been overlooked because she wasn't classically beautiful and her interests tended toward scholarly pursuits, had found a deep and abiding love with Matthew Devenport, the Marquess of Langston. And envy-because Carolyn so profoundly missed the deeply satisfying relationship she'd shared with Edward, one she knew in her heart and soul could never be duplicated. She'd been fortunate to find her one true love. And sadly, had lost him to a sudden and unexpected illness.

After three long years of widowhood she'd finally accepted the fact that the ache of missing her beloved husband would never completely go away. So she kept him in a special corner of her heart where his memory burned brightly and always would. She might have remained forever in her state of mourning, isolated from everyone except her family and few closest friends, but several months ago Sarah had taken her firmly in hand and all but dragged her out, encouraging her to discard her solitude and black gowns and join the living again.